Not A Marriage Bond

by Lara Wilson

Lucius sits behind his desk glancing through his correspondence. When the last note is read,
he scowls.

No news on his wayward son.

And his wife has failed in her mission to bring the dog to heel. As he lifts a glass of wine to
his lips he wonders if the curs killed her, then dismisses the thought.

Undoubtedly she whined and begged like the coward she is, and Merlin knows Gryffindors
can never resist saving the pathetic. Too bad Narcissa is beyond saving.

A smirk forms on his aristocratic face as he pictures his lady wife on her knees begging for
her life. He would have liked to see that in person, have her begging him, but there is time
enough for that. He will find her eventually and punish her for her failure.

She's always been his to kill. It's a privilege he's reserved for himself ever since the first time
she refused him his marital rights. He'd taught her a lesson that night so long ago, one she'd
learned well.

Lucius sips his wine and contemplates Narcissa's death at his hands. After a while, aroused
by the thought of her screams, he rises and leaves the Library behind, making his way up to
his suite of rooms. There are advantages to Narcissa's absence.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he smirks in pleasure at the sight of his young mistress
spread across the bed nude and glistening from her bath.

A quick, silent spell has her bound to the four corners of the bed with unbreakable chains, so
tight her back bows off the bed. As she gasps in both fear and lust, he slowly strips off his
clothing. Another spell and invisible fingers pinch her nipples, her clitoris, and her skin turns
as red as her hair and she strains against the chains.

Lucius smiles as the manacle cuts into one wrist, and blood slides down her arm to fall in
drops to the pillow.

She swallows convulsively, then writhes as best she can as the spell plays across all her most
sensitive places. When it touches behind her ear, she stops breathing for a moment.

When it brushes over her anus, she convulses and the manacles scrape around her slender
ankles, leaving deep, red marks.

Nude, Lucius leans against one of the posts at the foot of the bed, his eyes hot on her flushed
face and parted lips. While he idly caresses his cock to erection, he uses his free hand to
play along her leg, his fingers finding the perspiration behind her knee, a pinch on her inner
thigh making her cry out suddenly.

Ready for her, not really caring if she's ready for him, he knows that forcing her legs spread
and remain level is going to be painful for her. He finds that thought even more arousing
and moves onto the bed, settling atop her, hands braced on the mattress beneath her
armpits.

"Lucius," she moans, biting her lip in anticipation, and he thrusts his hips, rubbing the tip of
his cock down her wet vulva to the entrance to her body. The angle is awkward for them
both.

He doesn't care, and pushes into her with a hard drive of his hips.

She yells incoherently, and he, flushed with pleasure, pumps and plunges. If she comes, she
comes. She's wet and hot enough for him without orgasming. After barely five minutes, he
feels the desire tighten his body, and lets it come, grunting harshly and pounding her body
into the bed.

After a moment of rest, as she quivers around and beneath him, he rises and reaches for her
discarded towel to wipe himself clean.

"Lucius?" she begs, and he simply looks down at her, before tossing aside the towel and
walking to his wardrobe, the one with his toys.

He's not done with her yet.

As he holds up a thick whip, she both cringes and moans in a mixture of fear and
anticipation, and Lucius leans down and whispers, "Can you come from pain alone, my
dear?"